


Neil Gaiman's 'A Calendar of Tales': 'March Tale

by flayrith



Category: A Calendar of Tales- Neil Gaiman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flayrith/pseuds/flayrith
Summary: Based upon a course taught by Neil Gaiman, in which he discusses his work 'A Calendar of Tales'; specifically, 'March Tale'; and suggests that his first chapter could serve to begin, or end, a longer story.His work compelled me to complete 'March Tale'  with all respect and, if necessary, apologies to Mr.  Gaiman.(Chapter One by Neil Gaiman; I make no claims)





	Neil Gaiman's 'A Calendar of Tales': 'March Tale

_Anne Bonny and her rapscallion heart, dreaming for a ship of her very own_

**1**

It was too warm in the great house, and so the two of them went out onto the porch. A spring storm was brewing far to the west. Already the flicker of lightning and the unpredictable chilly gusts blew about them and cooled them. They sat decorously on the porch swing, the mother and the daughter, and they talked of when the woman's husband would be home, for he had taken ship of the tobacco crop to faraway England. Mary, who was 13, so pretty, so easily startled said "I do declare, I'm glad that all the pirates have gone to the gallows and father will come back to us safely." Her mother's smile was gentle, and it did not fade as she said, "I do not care to talk about pirates, Mary."

She was dressed as a boy, when she was a girl, to cover up her father's scandal. She did not wear a woman's dress until she was on the ship with her father, and with her mother, his serving girl mistress whom he would call wife in the New World, and they were on their way from Cork to the Carolinas. She fell in love for the first time on that journey, enveloped in unfamiliar cloth, clumsy in her strange skirts. She was 11, and it was no sailor who took her heart but the ship itself. Anne would sit in the bows watching the gray Atlantic roll beneath them listening to the gulls scream and feeling Ireland recede with each moment, taking with it all the old lies. She left her love when they landed with regret, and even as her father prospered in the new land, she dreamed of the creak and slap of the sails.

Her father was a good man. He had been pleased when she had returned and did not speak of her time away. The young man whom she had married, how he had taken her to Providence. She had returned to her family three years after with a baby at her breast. Her husband had died, she said, and although tales and rumours abounded, even the sharpest of the gossiping tongues did not think to suggest that Annie Riley was the pirate girl Anne Bonny, Red Rackham's first mate. "If you had fought like a man, would would not have died like like a dog." Those had been Anne Bonny's last words to the man who put the baby in her belly. Or so they said.

Mrs. Riley watched the lightning play, and heard the first rumble of distant thunder. Her hair was greying now, and her skin just as fair as that of any local woman of property. "It sounds like cannon fire" said Mary. Anne had named her for her own mother and for her best friend in the years she was away from the Great House. "Why would you say such things" asked her mother primly. "In this house we do not speak of cannon fire." The first of the March rain fell them, and Mrs. Riley surprised her daughter by getting up from the porch swing and leaning into the rain so it splashed her face like sea spray. It was quite out of character for a woman of such respectability. As the rain splashed her face she thought herself there: the captain of her own ship, the cannonade around them, the stench of the gunpowder smoke blowing on the salt breeze. Her ship's deck would be painted red to mask the blood in battle. The wind would fill her billowing canvas with a snap as loud as a cannon's roar as they prepared to board the merchant ship and take whatever they wished - jewels or coin and burning kisses with her first mate - when the madness was done.

"Mother," said Mary, "I do believe you must be thinking of a great secret. You have such a strange smile on your face.

"Silly girl, acushla," said her mother. And then she said "I was thinking of your father." She spoke the truth, and the March winds blew madness about them.

**2**

Mr. Riley returned, as he had always, with gifts. Gifts of fine lace for Mrs. Riley, "To compliment your beautiful hair", he said. Of a doll with finely-painted eyebrows and blushed cheeks, which Mary felt she was growing too old yet she happily received, her cheeks growing almost as flush as those of the doll. Most welcome of all, the gift of himself, once again returned safe and well from the journeys he must too often make. "So good to be back home" he sighed. "I fear these sea voyages may be making an old man of me", removing his coat and hat, placing them on the pegs awaiting his arrival.

"Nonsense," Mrs. Riley replied. "You are still the young man I married years ago." In her eyes, he was. "Still, the harsh weather you came upon must have worried even the strongest of men."

"Harsh weather?" Mr. Riley replied. "The sailing was smooth from the London docks to Charles Town." He lit the pipe removed from his topmost pocket. "Ah! You must be remarking of our late arrival. You see, the ship made a port which I hadn't foresaw; something to do with securing a tropical plant specific to the Indies, I believe", settling back into his favorite chair. "Rather odd to be sailing home from the west."

When his business obligations had grown beyond the Carolinas and occasional journey into Virginia, Mr. Riley had promised his wife, after much dispute and difference, to never travel to the West Indies; never, if it were within his power. "The weather, " Mrs. Riley had said "is not good for your constitution." Mr. Riley did not think to ask how his wife, always so reserved and proper, should possess this information.

"Disagreeable climate. I shall not regret having no further need to visit those islands."

The breath Mrs Riley had been secretly holding escaped without notice of her husband. Mary, nearby, pretending to play with her new doll which she had not named as a doll, being not living, does not need a name, thought her mother's worry must be greatly relieved now that Father had returned from these far-off lands which, Mary knew, had been the haunt of pirates.

"Did happen upon a curious business opportunity." Mr. Riley went on, much to her mother's distress. "Met a man quite taken with tobacco. Said he has an interest in the Carolinas, a birthright he must follow though, and thought perhaps I could lend some advice. Odd fellow."

"Why," Mrs. Riley asked, hoping the work of tidying a table which did not need to be tidied, would distract her husband from the fear she was certain ran flush through her body. "would you believe the man odd?"

"I couldn't place him as either planter or merchant. His clothing, and perhaps even his manner, were of the highest standards but obviously attained more by practise than birth. Appeared accustomed to the Islands, but I suspect would be amiss in either the common-grounds or the trading floors. I'd place him as the adventurous-type; a frontiersman, or sailor, perhaps."

"I do hope he's not a pirate, father", Mary spoke. "A pirate who shall slash our throats and take all that is ours!"

"Mary, we do not speak of pirates." Mrs. Riley replied.

"Where does she think of these things?" Mr. Riley declared, more in amusement than concern. "No, Mary, I'm certain he's not a pirate. Pirates are now only of story and tale. It's not proper for a young woman to hold such thoughts. That's a good girl, Mary. We shall know more when he arrives within the month."

"Come Mary, time for bed." Mrs Riley announced, her voice trembling not nearly as much as her hands. Passions that Mary's mother believed had faded to an abandoned past welled strongly inside her.

**3**

On days denied the sweep of sea-breeze on journey from coast to hill, even the porch was no longer sanctuary. In past weeks the afternoon's comforting winds had twice grown strong, and many feared appearance of a cyclone far too early for any cyclone to appear; but these were only fears.

Never had the girl, whom we know as Mary, seen such a splendid coach. Far more grand than that of her father's; it's majesty near, even, to the Governor's carriage which Mary had seen one summer passing along King street on it's way from chapel to home. Upon the drive of shell and gravel leading to sea and hill, the coach sparkled white in the summer sun. This was illusion, of course, built upon brightness of the day, as the coach was actually black. Though hired, along with team and driver, the Visitor sat easily, accustomed to such luxuries. Or so he wanted all to believe.

The Visitor, reclining onto the leather-faced cushions, scarcely moved til the carriage came to halt with creak of wood and whinny of horse at the Riley's front door. Even then, Peter North did not rouse til the driver had alighted and opened the coach door.

"Mr. North!" Mr. Riley, whom we know as Father, called out from the stoop. "So glad to see you!"

Mary, all but hidden behind the porch railing, thought Mr. North was, in fact, not the type of either merchant nor planter. Tall, through not nearly quite as tall standing as he was sitting; and thin, not the thinness of a sapling, green and growing but as a stave, formed and unbending. Mary thought him not an adventurer, as did Father, but perhaps more a rogue possessing greater need than purpose.

 "Hurrah!" called out Mr. North who was many years older than Mary but not quite as old as Father and Mother. "The pleasure is mine." Mary did not know if she liked Mr. North.

Although Prudence, the cook, and Charity, the handmaid, were more than capable of preparing supper, throughout the afternoon Mother spent more time in the kitchen with the servants than she did in the great house with Father and Mr. North. Mary believed Mother had been surprised by the arrival of Mr. North and was uncomfortable around him. When Father had introduced Mr. North, first to Mother and then to their daughter, Mary thought she saw a glint of recognition in Mother's eyes. But neither Mr. North nor Mother seemed to know one another, as when Mr. North took Mothers hand into his it was with far more delicacy than familiarity. "Mother", Mary inquired as Father and his Visitor settled into chairs only suitable for men who intend to remain settled for an extended time, "are you and Mr. North acquainted?"

"No, Mary." Mother replied after brief hesitation which suggested otherwise. "Mr. North reminded me of someone I once met. There is something about his nose...or perhaps the set of his mouth...or possibly not any individual trait, simply his overall character. Of course, Mary," she added as a lesson - Mother was always speaking in lessons - "many people possess similar traits. We cannot judge one only by his resemblance to another."

Supper would have been a cheerful occasion if Mother had not remained at her place, quiet and reserved, therefore requiring Mary remain as her mother. Father and Mr. North spoke of the things men speak of when they believe it is only what men speak which is important, which for many men is most of the time, and none of which was particularly interesting to Mary. She dug into her pie, unheedful, pretending the contents actually buried treasure, til Father mentioned the wretched disregard of His Majesty's Government.

"It's the lack of naval protection that concerns me. The current scarcity of pirates on the open seas has turned to a want of English gunships to patrol those seas. The threat of piracy, Mr. North, may be lessened; but continues, still."

"But Mr. Riley, wouldn't you rather have free trade with an occasional, shall we say, 'excitement', than the noses of the Royal Navy looking down upon us at every turn?"

"It's these 'excitements' you speak of that has cost me three shipments in the past year, Mr. North. We are led to believe the scourge of piracy has been routed, but I have two lost ships that say different."

"It is the way of our world, Mr. Riley. What one has achieved through industry and sacrifice, there is another waiting to take for himself."

Mary could not decide if she liked Mr. North.

**4**

The tobacco had grown thick and dark and pungent; but this was not the smell of growing plant fresh and green, reaching toward the sun. Even as workers cut and tied and stacked the leaves, others gathered and burnt the stalks, now worthless and forgotten. This was the smell not of life but of death.

"It is far too hot to be in the fields today." Mr. North said to no one in particular, standing upon the porch looking out at the tobacco fields. For a man who had come to learn of tobacco, Mr. North spent far too much time in the great house and far too little time in the tobacco fields. Although breakfast having been not more than an hour past, he sat in the most comfortable chair he could find and called that someone bring him a cider.

Mary, who was one in particular, had momentarily abandoned that same chair, rounding the corner to stand at the railing. It was late summer, when the rain came more frequently but carrying with it the salt-sea far less often. If the morning breeze was not captured when fresh, before the salt breeze was lost to smoke, one may not again have a breeze to catch. Since the arrival of Mr. North, Mary had become far less easily startled, edging upon daring. Or so she believed.

"Mr North!" Mary announced, emerging from beyond the corner. "Such a pleasant day to ride through the fields, is it not?" She baited.

"It is far too hot to be in the fields today." Mr. North repeated, understanding Mary had been on the porch when this was first said but assuming she had not heard him say it. "A gentleman's labours need not be labourious. As well, I've wanted to speak with you, Mary. A topic of which we both share interest."

Mary had nothing particular to say to Mr. North, and could not imagine any topic on which they would share interest.

"Your father is a fine man, and your mother, I am certain, should be pleased. Training a child as intelligent and inquisitive as yourself is a formidable task; or so I understand."

"Do you not have children of you own, Mr. North?" asked Mary.

"No, sorry to say, no. My life has been far too unsettled. What with the travels, and the excitements, and the adventures."

"Adventures?" asked Mary, interested.

"Ah, yes, many adventures. Perhaps one day I shall tell you of them."

Today, Mary thought, is one day.

"But what I wanted to speak with you now is not of my life, but of yours. While your father and Mrs. Riley should be commended, there comes a time for every child to find her own way. To go out into the world, determine what her life shall be."

As a child Mary had pretended to a life of passion and risk and excitement, but now believed she had grown too old for those childish thoughts. She would become the wife of a planter, the excitements of childhood fading away.

"May I share with you a secret, Mary?"

As all girls her age, Mary was always interested in secrets.

"I am not visiting to learn of tobacco. I have come to form a crew - a crew of adventure!"

Mary listened, intrigued.

"The sea, Mary. The sea is our portal to worlds unknown. Mysteries of the East! Secrets of the Orient! Endeavours and uncertainties and treasures unimaginable! All await, Mary. And I hope you will join us."

Mary sat, captivated, her heart grown flush as if she had inhaled the brightest morning wind.

**5**

_'Mary has gone on her own choice.'_

White and plain atop the sugar chest, silvered cones inside waiting to become Autumn pudding and preserves, the note sat folded where only Mrs. Riley would find it.

_'Though the hospitality presented by yourself and Mr. Riley has been agreeable, I hold no interest toward tobacco, the Carolinas, nor yourselves. My interest is in Mary, only. It has taken me half a man's lifetime, but I have uncovered all._

_I have determined Anne Bonny died after having birthed her child, more than she deserved. I have determined Mary Read, first mate and intimate to that treacherous Bonny, swore to take in and care for the child, a girl, as her own. You, Mrs. Riley, are the pirate Mary Read. I suspect you were never with child, although by plead of belly you deceived the court._

_I am not Peter North but Peter Vane, son of Charles Vane, Captain of the 'William'. By mutiny Red Rackham, Bonny, and yourself, in your rapscallion way, stole the 'William', ultimately leading to the capture and execution of my father. His body hung in chains at Gun Cay, a warning to all pirates, crows picking at flesh and maggots burrowing into skin, til the sun had baked it so through not even flies would come near._

_I have been denied everything that would be mine. Mary is all that is yours. Rackham is dead, impaled upon a spike at Port Royal. Bonny is dead, of fever and filth while imprisoned. You, Mary Read, are all but dead, far removed from the sea and the splash and the blood of battle; cut from your ship and your love. The child Mary, alone, holds life._

_Do not fear; I do not intend to kill her, just now. That is too simple, too quick. She believes I am an adventurer, set off upon a journey of discovery. She is eager to join my crew and experience those things of which she has only dreamed, that which wells in her soul and boils in her blood and of which she has no understanding. And we shall be 'adventuring', shall we not? Boarding merchants, taking as we like amid cannon roar and men's screams. Plundering port and town, streets run red with grape and blood. These are the 'excitements' Mary shall live, just as yourself, just as her mother. If this madness fills her with disgust and she craves plantation over piracy - then I shall kill her._

_So I have taken all that is yours, Mary Read, just as you and Anne Bonny, both halves of one heart, have taken from me. And now that years have passed and your hair has greyed and you believe yourself safe, far from sea and sword, I leave you even without hope. Explain this to your husband best you can._

_Captain Peter Vane_

**6**

"I shall contact the Governor; the Admiral; nothing shall be left undone!" Mr. Riley raged. Mrs. Riley told her husband Mary had been kidnapped; at this time, nothing else need be said.

"Mr. North is a hound who shall regret the day he walked through our doorway. I do not know when I shall return," Mr. Riley simmered, anger equal to remorse. "But, by my word, I shall return with Mary!" He stood on the porch, valise filled with shirts and stockings and revenge, awaiting the driver bring his carriage.

"I will go with you."

"It is far too dangerous. And what would it testify, other than cause me worry of your safety, in addition to our Mary? No, you shall remain here, and I shall know you are safe, at home."

"Mary was home, and she is not safe. I will go with you."

"I will not hear of it. The duty is mine. I should not allow you carry that burden."

"That, husband, is a burden I have willingly borne. I am her mother."

She dressed in pants and shirts loose like sails at full wind. Mary did not care for these clothes, preferring to dress as a lady; but last summer she had been too young to be a lady and she was now too old. She stood at the bows, leaning into first of the Spring rains although this spray was salted and slimy and harsh, so unlike the cooling March winds and clean mist of the Carolinas. Her days aboard this ship of pirates were not as she expected pirates to be, until the days they were. At sea each day seemed as any other as there were ropes to repair and decks to wash and clothing to mend. Three times Captain Vane had set sights on another vessel; the first a small sloop carrying little but grain and fabrics which the pirates seized with quick blood and slow amusement. The second, a Royal ship of the line, at first Mary thought would be her salvation but the pirates pulled back their cannon and raised up their Jack and the frigate sailed on. The third, a merchantman with able crew and cannons of her own, battled until their cannon burst and their masts fell; of any that remained Captain Vane ordered that those they had not killed be captured, and those captured be killed.

Mary did not join into these 'excitements'. When first brought aboard she screamed and clawed and bit until Mr. North had her locked into a storeroom, evicting the rats who only remained gone a short time. Outside she would hear men talk of her, and she feared the worst; although what the worst was, she could not imagine. But she was never molested. Mr. North told the men she was 'his property' and as his, he ignored her. Under promise of manner - for one can live with rats only so long, and aboard ship there is no place to disappear - Mary was allowed a small cabin alongside that of Mr. North, whom the men called Captain Vane. She was given a change of clothing, and a small knife for trimming rope, and allowed to bathe nearly as often as the men, which was seldom. In time she had work to fill her days and grew accustomed to these new lies.

This day, humid and close, weighed upon the skin. Ahead lay clouds low and heavy, the ship having only just made sail from a disused port on an desolate island Mary did not know and had not been allowed to debark.

"Ship off ta' port!" called the lookout.

At this, Captain Vane identified to his left and not more than a league beyond a merchantman so favoured by pirates. "Ahead men," he ordered. "And may God have mercy on their souls."

**7**

Mr. Riley's captain was sound and strong and stout as a barrel; if a barrel had two arms and two legs and two chins.

"Aye, Mr. Riley, sir, we're on 'em now."

Mr. Riley had equipped his best ship with his best captain and his best men. They carried not tobacco and hemp but cannon and blade.

"If the Navy should capture Mr. North, it will only see him hung. And that is too good an end. Too good, indeed." Mr. Riley affirmed to Mrs. Riley, both standing at the bows. She leaned into the sea, spray splashing to her face as rain, thoughts of the young girl shrouded in unknown amid the cries and the slap and the red. She thought of Mary, and of her oath; of her mother and of her daughter.

For all who were killed, the battle continued a lifetime. In fact it was no more than a few minutes; despite the best ship with the best captain and the best men, the pirates were more skilled, more willing, less humane. Cannon rolled as thunder and cutlass crackled as lightning; Mary hiding, as she always did, behind the railing knew scarcely more than splinter of wood and shred of sail and men's cries of death. Only when the sounds had ended did she venture forth, where men had fallen until the decks were painted red with their blood. Of the merchant ship, fogged with smoke and confusion, only two remained. Straining against rope, Mr. and Mrs. Riley; father and mother; were hauled aboard, pirates to either side more intent upon indignities than passage.

"Hurrah!" called out Captain Vane. "So it is the Riley's; rather, one Riley and one Read. Could not keep at bay, eh, Mary? The call of the sea is far too strong."

"I am her mother." answered Mrs. Riley.

Mr. Riley, having spied his daughter near the railing, did not know who Mr. North was speaking when he spoke 'Mary'.

"Pity your voyage will be of no avail. Mary!" the Captain called. "Come here."

To the jeers and calls of the pirate crew, Mary stepped forward, seeing for the first time in her father's eyes fear and in her mother's, defiance.

"Mr. and Mrs. Riley, I leave this to your will: take to the plank, together or separately, I do not care which, and drown slowly; or I slit your throats with my blade, in front of Mary, and you die fast. I do not care which."

Mary could scarcely believe this madness.

"Or," the Captain added in scorn and venom, "Mary will slice your throat by her own knife; and if she does not, I shall slowly cut and gash and bleed her til she does or, til she dies, slowly, before you."

Father, who had little experience with pirates, thought it best to accede to their demands. At the edge of the plank, between life and death, he turned back toward his daughter. "That's a good girl, Mary", he said before disappearing into the sea.

Mother refused to accede and stood glaring at Peter Vane, the point of his sword at her throat. If she could, Mother would have fought against pirates, fought for herself, fought for her child; but she had no weapon to hold between life and death, and no experience with pirates whatsoever.

"As I said," said the Captain, "you'll walk the plank or feel the slice of my blade. As you appear reluctant to walk..." In a slash too sharp to witness, eyes registering only splash of blood and look of surprise and angered gaze on Mother's face, she grasped at her throat as the captain kicked her legs from beneath her, her head striking the edge of the plank with a dullness Mary wished she had not heard. And that was the last Mary saw of her mother. But, looking over the ship's railing behind which Mary wished she could hide and never again be found, the sea had turned red with her mother's blood.

**8**

"Mother, that is a dreadful story! I shall not sleep!"

Mrs. Riley tucked the blanket around her daughter’s shoulders, smoothed the hair from her face, and kissed her on the cheek. "And that is why, acushla, in this house we do not speak of pirates." Blowing out the candle she pulled the door shut, returning back to the common room, now vacant as Mr. Riley had earlier retired to his dressing-chamber.

At height sufficient to admire but reasonably certain to discourage prying eyes, Mrs. Riley glanced, pensively and uneasily, at the ship's model that had remained through the years, far from wave and wind. At the bows, the title 'William' having once been painted with the sharpest of brushes at the smallest of size had been scarcely readable when it was fresh and clear and now by time and reserve the name had faded beyond recognition. But the name of her love need not be legible to Anne. Or so they said.

**< <<<<<>>>>>>**

 


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